


Some Assembly Required

by RefugeeofTumblr



Series: Dedeucing the Dedeucer [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Makeup, Marriage Proposal, Relationship Problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:14:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RefugeeofTumblr/pseuds/RefugeeofTumblr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock reunited. Post-Reichenbach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Assembly Required

Why is John leaving? Sherlock can't understand. What is this? He's just gotten back and John is leaving?

"John?" he reaches out tentatively to touch the doctor's arm. John glares at him. He doesn't understand why Sherlock doesn't get it. 

"You honestly don't get it, do you?" Sherlock looks blank.

"Get what?" the consulting detective asks. Big mistake. John's eyes flash with anger and he runs his hands through his hair in anger. Sherlock grasps the doctor's arm, holding him back gently. "John, you know I'm not good with these things. Please, just tell me what I got wrong so I know what's A Bit Not Good when it comes to our relationship."

John sighs weakly, his entire body shuddering as he lets the air rush out of his lungs. In that moment he looks infinitely breakable and it _scares_ Sherlock more than anything else he's ever seen. His John, his blogger, his faithful soldier in pain because of what he did. The consulting detective reaches out to stroke his lover's cheek slowly. He feels a surge of warmth as John leans into his hand. It's been so long! Three awful, heart wrenching years. Too long. Far too long.

"You left me, you left me and it hurt so bad." John begins quietly. "But I can't keep myself from forgiving you for breaking my heart like that."

Memories flood John's senses, clear and sharp and agonizing:

_Sitting alone in his favorite armchair, absorbed in memory. Replaying the scene of his lover falling over and over again._

_Hanging his coat on the back of a chair and then throwing a pen toward the area Sherlock usually occupied on the couch. The clatter as it hit the floor only served to remind him of the ache in his heart._

Warm arms wrap around the army doctor with infinite tenderness. He's pressed against the consulting detective's chest and he buries his face in Sherlock's neck. That unique scent of gunpowder and mud and London air engulfs him - it feels wonderful. For the first time in three years John is finally home. "I'm so sorry," comes the deep, rumbling voice in his ear. And Sherlock truly is sorry. He does have a heart, after all. "I tried to tell you what I was doing. That it was a trick. I couldn't come out and say it plainly, not with snipers trained on you and Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson."

John can only whisper a quiet, helpless, "I need you." Never again can he let Sherlock leave him like that. The detective seems to hear that unspoken thought and squeezes him tightly.

Slowly John pulls back. Those bright, shimmering eyes are locked on his own. He reaches up to cup one stubbly cheek and pulls Sherlock into a tender kiss. Soft lips part willingly and they twine their tongues in a rush of heat. For a moment this duel continues uninterrupted. Then they remember the need for oxygen and part once more. But not for long - no, never for long. No matter how far they stray from each other they know they will always come back to one another.

"Bedroom?" Sherlock asks, allowing a hand to slide down to John's hip. His suggestion is met with a smile. Typical Sherlock, searching for a way to make things normal again. Well, as normal as their life together can be, anyway.

Things are going to be better now. Later, as they lay together among the sheets, John looks into Sherlock's eyes. He seems to be trying to find the words to say something. Eventually, the army doctor gets up and walks to the dresser. Sherlock waits patiently as his lover takes something from one of the drawers and then returns to the bed.

John sits on the bed with his knees folded beneath him. For a long moment he searches the detective's eyes. Then he holds out his hand.

In the center of his palm lay two thin, silver rings.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please leave comments, and I would appreciate it if you checked out my other works.


End file.
